


The Friendship (Re)Development

by MeganWrites



Series: Rod of Asclepius [9]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-19
Updated: 2015-12-19
Packaged: 2018-05-07 13:13:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5457689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MeganWrites/pseuds/MeganWrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A week goes by and Mickey doesn’t even look at Ian. Ian respects that, keeps his distance, even though it’s killing him. All Ian has been able to think about is the way Mickey froze as soon as Ian asked him, “do you love me?”</p><p>Ian is a nervous medical intern, Mickey is a grumpy nurse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Friendship (Re)Development

**Author's Note:**

> It's been a million years, I know, but here is the next fic in the series :)

A week goes by and Mickey doesn’t even look at Ian. Ian respects that, keeps his distance, even though it’s killing him. All Ian has been able to think about is the way Mickey froze as soon as Ian asked him, _“do you love me?_ ”. He keeps replaying it in his head. The way Mickey’s mouth dropped open, the silent stammering as he tried to think of something to say. But there is one moment Ian comes back to each time, one little thing: he didn’t say no.

Mickey could have just said no. He could have told Ian to fuck off or that he’s a fucking idiot - but he didn’t.

Ian knows, he fucking knows, that it means something.

And he’s willing to wait to find out what that is.

 

-

 

One day Mickey and Ian are helping a few elderly patients in a shared room. Four people from the same assisted living home with similar symptoms. They’re still waiting on the test results for an official diagnosis but Ian’s fairly certain it’s a strain of influenza. Mickey is talking to one of the patients, a woman named Gladys. She has developed a bit of a stutter in her later years due to multiple strokes. She’s nervous, hasn’t like hospitals since she lost her wife three years prior. Mickey brings her some water to drink but Gladys' hand is shaking too much to hold the cup. Mickey helps her carefully, with the type of patience can only come from dedication to his job. Ian is nearby, looking over the charts of one of the other patients and trying his best to focus.

It’s impossible with Mickey in the room though.

“I-I-I,” Gladys scowls and looks down at her sheets, cheeks burning with shame, “Tha-a-nk you.” She stammers the words out with what looks like great effort.

Mickey doesn’t acknowledge her words beyond a shrug, always so bashful when his patience show gratitude to him. His eyes focus on the way Gladys is still trembling, she seems uncomfortable and scared. Mickey’s attune to that much faster than Ian is though. He’s speaking before Ian can process what he might be able to do for her.

“You’ll be out of here soon, I promise,” Mickey says, then glances over at Ian for the first time in what feels like forever. He nudges his head, directing Ian to walk over to the bed. Ian’s too shocked to think, just does what Mickey wants. He stops by the foot of Gladys’ bed, holding his hands behind his back, a stance that has been comfortable since his days in Junior ROTC.

“This guy here,” Mickey starts, directing his attention back to Gladys, “He’s your doctor. I gotta tell ya, I’ve been working here for awhile and Dr. Gallagher is one of the best. He’s gonna take really good care of you, I promise.”

Gladys smiles up at Mickey, her eyes wet when she grabs his hand and squeezes it as tightly as she can. Mickey looks back over at Ian with a hesitant smile, like he didn’t necessarily mean to do that or to say it. But he did, and here they are.

Ian smiles back, his throat is thick with words and feelings he knows he can’t yet express. It’s enough for now though. Words of affirmation and a smile, that’s enough.

 

-

 

A day later Ian is doing paperwork in the staff room when Mickey comes up to him. He lays a folder with a patients chart on the table and drops into the seat beside Ian.

“Can you look at this?” He asks.

Ian blinks and nods, surprised that Mickey is acknowledging him again, even if it is in a work setting.

Mickey scratches the back of his neck and up through his hair as Ian reads over the file. He fidgets, tapping his feet and twisting his hands together. Mickey is nervous. Ian frowns, there was a time in his life that they might have made Ian peevishly pleased. Knowing that he can make someone feel that way just by being around them. He doesn’t want that anymore though, and especially not from Mickey.

“You know,” Ian keeps his voice soft as he says, “You know, you can always come to me, Mickey. About anything.”

Mickey gnaws on his lower lip, keeping his eyes directed to the folder, and nodding.

Ian sighs, knowing that’s the most he is going to get from Mickey and turns his attention back to the file. “Looks like the early stages of lung cancer,” Ian answers as he reads over the information and looks at the x-rays. It’s a simple diagnosis to make, Ian knows that Mickey doesn’t need his help with this.

It makes so much more sense why Mickey was nervous now. It wasn’t because he didn’t want Ian to know he needed help. But instead that he was hoping Ian wouldn’t realize that he didn’t need help.

Mickey snatches the folder back. His cheek have a slight pink tinge as he walks out, calling out a quick thanks over his shoulder.

Ian smiles and leans back in his seat. Progress.

 

-

 

On a Saturday, just a week later, Ian is exhausted. He’s working a night shift after spending the last couple weeks doing nights. Ian knows that technically he got enough sleep, and that technically he should be wide awake - but his mind just doesn’t feel like it. He’s out of sorts and cranky, he needs more routine in his life. Usually he gets more warning before his shifts switch, but not tonight. The worst part is that he knows that this is only temporary. He is just covering a couple shifts since one of their more senior Doctors, Dr. Marie Dahl, developed shingles. The schedule is being rearranged to make something more consistent but for a few days it’s going to be a pain in the ass.

Especially for Ian, who stupidly volunteered in an effort to portray himself as a team player.

(As Lip had warned him a few weeks earlier, “Since the beginning of your internship they have been trying to determine who they’re going to want to keep after the residency. You don’t want to be that guy four years later that they don’t see as a benefit and is left without a fucking job.”

And no, Ian did not want to be that guy).

Ian feels like a zombie as he pulls on his scrubs and closes his locker, ignoring any of the chatter in the locker room from his fellow Residents. He meanders into the hall and goes up to the nurses desk to receive the charts and patient list for the night. He’s so used to Dana sitting at the desk that it throws him off when it’s Mickey sitting in her regular spot, checking out the computer and scribbling down notes. Ian shakes his head and sniffs, trying to focus and get his mind ready for the encounter. Mickey’s been starting to warm up to Ian but it’s still not the same. Still not enough for Ian to feel totally comfortable with Mickey and where they stand.

Ian stops at the desk, trying his best to look happy and polite but without trying too hard. It’s a fine line and he’s sure he’s failing. He never has been able to keep his emotions in check when it comes to Mickey.

“Hey,” Ian says, he sounds nervous - _fuck, why does he sound so fucking nervous?_

Mickey barely spares Ian a glance before he’s reaching for a stack of folders. Of course Mickey knew that Ian would be working, he has always paid more attention to the schedule then Ian has. “These are all of Dahl’s patients, don’t let any of them die,” Mickey explains monotonously. He details who is at the highest risk, requiring the most attention, and who is at the lowest risk, requiring the least attention. He doesn’t look up throughout the entire explanation, just keeps switching between staring at the papers on his desk and the computer screen. Ian’s heart feels heavy in his chest, sinking and weighing him down. He has a sneaking suspicion that Mickey has no reason to be avoiding looking at Ian other than just wanting to.

Ian doesn’t even try to fake a happy tone when he says, “Alright, I’ll get to work then.” He grabs the files of the desk and walks away from the counter.

The good thing about night shifts is that barring an emergency, they’re easy shifts. It’s literally as simple as ‘don’t let the patients die’ and that’s all. Ian doesn’t even need to go into the rooms often. The nurses are the ones who go into the patient's room every hour (at the least) and check on vitals. Ian’s only purpose for being in the hospital is to do his initial rounds, his final rounds, and in case any of Dr. Dahl’s patients ask for a doctor.

But that also leaves Ian bored as fuck and sitting in the staff room on their deceivingly uncomfortable couch. Which doesn’t help him feel less drained and unenergetic. He wishes he never agreed to take over the fucking night shifts.

Ian looks up when someone walks into the room. He is a little surprised and startled when he sees that it’s Mickey holding too large to-go cups of coffee from the cafeteria.

“You look like shit and you smell fucking terrible,” Mickey says. It’s crass and rude, but Mickey’s actually looking at him. Progress.

Ian tries his best but can’t help the small dreamy smile from reaching his lips. “I woke up late, didn’t have to shower, barely got enough sleep.”

Mickey nods, chewing on his lower lip and standing awkwardly in front of Ian. “Night shifts, man,” Mickey says.

Ian nods, not sure what else to say to it. He wants to be able to fall back into easy banter with Mickey but it’s not so simple. Mickey shuffles on his feet and holds up the coffee in his left hand. “They, uh, gave me an extra,” Mickey explains, “Just figured you drink coffee so, you can have it.” He puts it down on the coffee table and turns around, rushing out of the room without another word.

Ian stares at the door for a long moment after Mickey has already retreated through it. He looks down at the coffee and smiles. Ian knows better than to think the cafeteria workers would have given Mickey an extra coffee by mistake. The manager of the cafeteria is stingy and angry, keeping count of every single cup and what it is used for. The employees could be written up and charged for something like that, and he knows none of them are willing to risk it. Not over a cup of coffee at least.

Ian pops off the plastic lid and his suspicions are confirmed. He swirls his pinky around in the cup, licking off the drops of coffee from the tip of his finger and smiling. One cream, no sugar - just how Ian likes his morning cup of coffee.

Ian feels lighter than air. Progress.

 

-

 

Mickey brings Ian a coffee the next night as well, and then the night after that as well. Ian almost regrets it when he wakes up in the morning for his regular shift but is pleasantly surprised when Mickey is there with another ‘extra’ coffee. That’s the moment that Ian starts to notice a real difference. It doesn’t happen suddenly but Mickey starts chatting with him casually. He asks how Ian’s day off was or if he watched a show the night before, talks about how he doesn’t like the rain and they ‘don’t live in fucking Seattle for a reason’.

Ian loves it. Every single second of attention Mickey gives Ian is the best part of his day. Ian knows that he had missed Mickey, but somehow it didn’t register how much until Mickey was beginning to fill up all those gaping holes he left in Ian’s life.

Ian’s eating in the cafeteria. On his tray sits  a sandwich, a Rice Krispie square, and two large cups of coffee to-go. Earlier Mickey had mentioned that he would be taking his lunch around two. Ian had made sure that he would be able to take his then as well. It may not have been a hint that Mickey wanted to spend lunch with Ian, but on the off chance he did, Ian would be there waiting.

Mickey sits down at the small table just as Ian is starting on the second half of his sandwich. Mickey has a sandwich and a cup of jello on his tray, and balanced on either side is a large cup of coffee to-go. Ian tries his best not to laugh as he chews, chuckling and shaking his head. Mickey opens the plastic container for his sandwich and snorts loudly.

“They, uh, accidentally gave me one,” Ian teases with a cheeky grin.

Mickey sucks on his teeth and raises his eyebrows. “C’mon, Gallagher, gotta have a better excuse than that.”

Ian shrugs, “Who says I’m not telling the truth. I’ve found that over the past few days that it’s apparently very common for the cafeteria to do that.”

Mickey laughs then, smiling wide and bright, making Ian fall in love with him all over again. God, he’s missed the sound of that fucking laugh. It’s like a long lost favorite song that he’s been trying in vain to hum the tune to. Ian ignores his food in favour of watching Mickey, committing the way his nose crinkles up and his eyes shine a little brighter to memory. He probably looks creepy, just staring, and he knows he should stop before Mickey notices what he’s doing, but he doesn’t want to.

Sometimes he thinks he shouldn’t love Mickey this much anymore, not after everything that happened. But love isn’t something that can be decided and dictated. Ian is sure there won’t be a day that he doesn’t love Mickey this much, no matter what happens.

“I guess we’ll just be really fucking caffeinated then,” Ian says, swapping the coffee he has for Mickey with the one Mickey has for him. “The patients will probably thinking we’re so weird though.”

Mickey snorts again, sticking a spoon in his jell-o and scooping some out, “I can think of worse things.”

Ian smiles softly and nods, “Yeah, me too.”

Mickey narrows his eyes, noticing the way Ian is blatantly staring at him, but it isn’t in an angry way. It’s playful and flirtatious, a little smile on his lips as he swallows and takes another bit. Ian laughs and finally looks away, his chest feels light and warm. Finally, fucking finally, he thinks he might know where Mickey’s head is at.

Then again, he’s thought that before.

Ian tries not to let the dark thought invade his happiness. Instead he focuses on the way Mickey keeps sneaking glances at him in the same way Ian has been, and how every time their eyes meet it’s not awkward. They hold each others gaze, just for a moment, smile and go back to eating. It’s stupid and Ian feels like he’s in middle school but he wouldn’t change it for anything.

 

-

 

Mickey starts talking to Ian again. It’s not in the casual work buddy way, even though it stays at work. It’s exactly like it was before, teasing and flirting while they work. Mickey smiling just a bit brighter every time he sees Ian, nudging his shoulder and flipping Ian off when he walks past. It feels like Ian’s taken a million steps back but also a million forwards. They aren’t in the place they used to be, not when they were together - or sort of together - but it’s still better than the month before. Better than the silence and polite greetings.

God, anything is fucking better than that was.

Ian feels like he did months ago, wandering after Mickey and pining like a fucking idiot. Except, this time he knows there is something there. He knows that the aching in his chest  is mutual, he can see it. He sees it in the way Mickey will still hesitate. The twitch of his hand, wanting to reach out just for a touch, but staying still, the longing in his eyes, the flashes of regret. Ian knows with every fiber of his being that Mickey wants more - wants Ian.

He wonders if Mickey knows that Ian would take him back in a second.

Yes, he was mad, so fucking mad, but he’s long since forgiven Mickey. Ian doesn’t understand Mickey’s fear, not exactly, but he still knows how scary it can be.

He never had a the same type of overbearing shadow of certainty that he would be dead, or worse, if his father found out who he is. Frank had been abusive in his own way, but never for a reason and never because of Ian’s sexuality. Frank would be the fucking last person to care about that. But he did understand fear that could come from being gay. Fear of someone in his neighbourhood finding out, fear of his brothers and sisters rejecting him. It isn’t the same, but he still knows what it is  like to be scared of who he is, of being hated because of who he is.

Ian can remember exactly how terrifying that was, but for Ian it is in the past. Not even the recent past, it’s been years since he’s been scared like that.

(He’s been scared, so fucking scared, but it’s different now. It’s not that type of fear and it's never for that reason.)

He knows Mickey doesn’t live with his father, doesn’t even see his father, but he knows that it’s hard to let go of that. It’s hard to move forward from something like that. Ian has his own demons and fears that he can’t seem to let go of.

Ian wants to talk him about it all, clear the air, get back to where they were. He’s just not sure how to start the conversation.

 

-

 

Ian doesn’t like to ask for help, doesn’t even like to ask for advice. It’s something he’s been trying to work on and improve at. He knows that he needs help sometimes, someone else just to help him sort out his thoughts, but it’s so damn hard to admit it sometimes. He has to sit on it for awhile, debate what he needs out of the conversation, whether another opinion will be beneficial or not. And after he takes his time, slowly convincing himself that - _yes, he just fucking needs to talking to someone_ \- he goes to Lip.

It’s always easiest to talk to Lip.

Lip’s on one of his breaks from the robotics lab at the University. He’s helping to develop some type of system that will assist in perfecting difficult surgeries. Lip’s explained it a couple of times but it’s all a little over Ian’s head. Biology he understands, but engineering is something he will never be able to wrap his head around. It is convenient for Ian that Lip has been working on medical related technology as the labs are close to the Hospital that Ian works at.

Lip meets him outside for a fifteen minute break. He pays a street  vendor, handing over a few crumpled bills and passing Ian his hot dog before they make their way to a nearby bench. Lip takes a bite, chewing and swallowing before looking over at Ian.

“Alright, what’s this about?”

“Just catching up,” Ian says, barely fighting the urge to just keep quiet and go back to work. He fucking hates asking for advice.

Lip continues to start at Ian, “C’mon Ian, you never stop by for a social call.”

Ian laughs but nods, “Does that make me an asshole?”

“Definitely. But aren’t we all?” Lip chuckles, takes a final bite before tossing his garbage into the nearby can and lighting up a cigarette. “So, regal me with tales of your woes.”

Ian sighs and shakes his head, his fucking brother, so pretentious sometimes. “Alright, but try to stay impartial?”

Lip gives Ian a slight nod. Ian knows that it doesn’t mean anything. When it comes to a scam or his work, he can view a problem from any and every angle until he finds the solution. But with personal problems, he tends to have one opinion and it’s one that rarely tends to change.

“I met a guy a while ago,” Ian starts, looking down at his hands in his lap and bouncing his knee. “He’s a nurse, we work together and we started hooking up. He’s not out though and he’s fucking skittish sometimes about an actual relationship. I thought that with me it was different, or I don’t know, thought we were fucking further along than we were, and then I told him-” Ian pauses, hesitating to tell Lip the depth of his feelings out of fear of being told he is being a lovestruck idiot. “I told him something that freaked him out, he said some shitty stuff and left.”

“Seems pretty cut and dry to me,” Lip quips.

Ian shakes his head, “It’s not. He’s… he’s not someone I can just move on from. Things were awkward for awhile but he’s talking to me again and it feels like we’re almost back to the point we were at before. I just don’t know how to start that conversation, what the fuck can I even say? I get why he freaked out, he’s scared and I get it, but I just - fuck, I don’t know.”

Lip placed a heavy hand on Ian’s shoulder and squeezed, “Shit situation.”

Ian huffs a laugh, “You have no idea.”

“Alright,” Lip says, tossing the butt of his cigarette on the ground and leaning forward on his elbows. “You’re not gonna like what I have to say, I’m warning you now.”

Ian presses his lips together in a tight line, he had hoped that Lip would give him good news but in his heart he had known this would be the reality.

“He doesn’t want the same thing as you.”

“You don’t-”

“Yeah, I do,” Lip cuts Ian off, “I know you. I know that you’ve wanted a solid relationship since you were fifteen and I know that if he’s freaking out, he doesn’t want that. Ian, you’ve got a lot to consider here. If he’s scared, is this really the best thing for him? Forcing him into something he’s not ready for, might not want. And what about you? You’ve got to take care of yourself first. You need stability, Ian. Your job’s already sporadic and hectic, and don’t get me wrong, I’m glad you have your job and that you like your job. But do you need even more stress and instability? You’ve been doing so well for so long, you don’t need something fucking that up.”

Ian feels a heaviness in his chest, thick and overwhelming, weighing his heart down. He doesn’t want to admit that Lip has a point, but he does. Ian hasn’t told Lip about the panic attacks he’s been experiencing at work and even without that knowledge Lip can hit the nail on the head. His job is adding stress and instability to his life, and it’s been worse since he started the internship. He wonders if that’s because now he’s forced to have real life experiences or if it’s Mickey. Maybe it’s a combination of the two.

“I love him,” Ian admits quietly.

“I figured.”

Ian sniffs and blinks a few times, clearing out his wetness in his eyes, “I can’t just walk away from this, Lip. I know it might be better for me but I just, I need to talk to him. I need to know what he wants.”

“Alright, just remember that you’re not doing either one of you a favour by forcing yourself into something you don’t want.” Lip says and looks at his watch, “I’ve got to head back, just think about it, okay?”

Ian nods, staying hunched over on the bench as Lip stands and walks away.

**Author's Note:**

> [Tumblr.](http://meganwwrites.tumblr.com)


End file.
